


One crime, three judgements

by Subaruchan192



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blackwall (Dragon Age) Spoilers, Comfort/Angst, Conversations, Developing Friendships, Dorian Pavus is a Good Friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Honesty, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Undefined Male Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subaruchan192/pseuds/Subaruchan192
Summary: “How am I supposed to address you, now? As Blackwall or Thom Rainier?” Dorian pushed himself away from the pole he had leaned against and stepped out of the shadows the low sun had covered the barn in.“However it pleases you,” he answered and slowly turned around to him. “I don’t have the right to choose anymore.”The Altus from Tevinter frowned, but to Blackwall’s surprise he said nothing to that. Instead his honey coloured eyes hung thoughtfully on him. He couldn’t tell why, but Blackwall felt like Dorian assessed if he deserved the Inquisitor’s verdict or if he could be a threat. The Inquisitor and Blackwall had been friends as much as they could be despite the different ranks and his lie and Dorian loved the Inquisitor dearly. He surely wanted to protect his love and therefore, it felt like he was judging Blackwall once again.“Why are you here, Dorian?” He asked tiredly and threw a long, exhausted gaze at him.“I’m here to understand,” the mage explained surprisingly calm and his deep voice was warm.~*~A week has passed since Blackwall's/Thom's trial, but effects more people than just him. The Inquisitor and Dorian for example. This is a study of how they deal with it.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan, Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Adaar/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	One crime, three judgements

**Author's Note:**

> After I wrote a story in which Blackwall comfort Dorian after the meeting with his father, I wanted to write one the other way around and the reveal of Blackwall's lie was the first idea.   
> It contains the PoV of Blackwall, Dorian and the Inquisitor on it. =)

It was an early, cold morning at Skyhold. The clear, silver veil of mist swirled peacefully over the frozen ground. It was quiet in the courtyard. Almost suffocating so; only the silent scatter from metal of metal from the patrolling guards disturbed the silence.

Blackwall enjoyed those quiet moments, before the judgmental gazes of the subordinates and his companions would stab him in the back again whenever he dared to leave the barn. Not that he deserved that little glimpse of peace.

A week had passed since his judgement and ever since he barely left his chosen exile which had once been his home.

He sighed as he finished carving another wooden gryphon. For a moment he brushed his callous fingers along the smooth edges of the toy which hopefully would bring joy to a little child in a gruesome time. That was his redemption. The Inquisitor might have given him absolution and freedom, but it didn’t mean he would grant him the same.

Carefully, he rested his sacrifice onto the pile next to him. Josephine would let them be collected somewhen soon. Then he stood up and brushed the wood chippings from his trousers as he walked over into the stable next to his barn in which the horses of the Inquisitor and his Inner Circle lived. Master Dennet was at the stables outside the fortress to watch over a mare which had expected her foal last night. Therefore, Blackwall decided he should give him a hand and feed the mounts here. Despite that being in the stable always filled him with a certain feeling of peace when he heard the content munching on hay and occasional snorts.

The first, small smile in days appeared underneath his shaggy, thick beard when a colossal, brown war horse poked its head out of the box and neighed softly.

“Hello, Lilly, my dear,” he greeted her and rubbed tenderly over her snout. “How’s my girl today?”

Lilly snorted happily and pressed her snout into his palm. They had been through a lot together and Blackwall knew he could absolutely rely on her. Despite her stature Lilly was the kindest and bravest horse Blackwall had ever known. Many times, she had charged into a group of enemies to help him land the first attack no matter if it were dracolisk, darkspawn or Venatori.

“Shall I get you some food? What do you think?” It was as if the stable suddenly came alive. There was pawing the ground and snorting filled the air like drums. Bull’s qunari-bred horse Storm pounded on the ground. It was a grey furred, muscle packed stallion with a black mane and just like its owner always hungry.

“Well, I guess it’s settled then.” Blackwall laughed, when some horses neighed in choir and then disappeared into the tack room. The air was heavy and stuffed in the small room, filled with little particles of hay and dried pellets of grass.

Blackwall hurried over to the other side of the room and manhandled two heavy bags to the front to cut them open with a knife and fill the buckets.

A few minutes later the horses were eating contently on their breakfast and peaceful silence settled over the stable as Blackwall leaned on the stable door to watch how Lilly feasted on her hay.

When she was done with eating Lilly turned back to him and gentle, dark eyes looked at him, starring deep into his soul and likely felt all the grief he had hidden for a long time which came back to the surface.

Immediately, his smile fell and he sighed heavily as he rested his head against her and closed his eyes while the horse’s warm breath blew over his palm.

“You’ll always going to be by my side, right, girl?” He asked with a strange melancholy inside his heart. He had been ready to accept his judgement and fate, but it hurt him to know what he would have left behind. He had found friends here even though it had been tarnished from his lie.

A lie which had been resting like poison inside his veins and had corroded him.

Lilly snorted her answer and nudged him gently- well, gently for her, but her strength still made him stumble a few steps backwards and it elicited a laugh from him which lifted the weight from his heart for a short moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he stroked over neck. Lilly closed her eyes to snooze and enjoy his tender ministration. After a few moments, in which he had just combed his fingers through her fur, he opened the door to her box and stepped in. He took the currycomb from a nail on the pole and walked up to his loyal mare as he begun to brush her down.

Lilly snorted contently and angled her hoof to snooze while Blackwall would not rest until her fur was as smooth and shiny as it deserved.

The sun had climbed over the peaks of the Frostback Mountains when Blackwall finished his work in the stable and returned to the barn to free his clothes from the dirt and holms of hay, but then he stopped as he registered a presence hidden in the shadows from the upper attic.

“How am I supposed to address you, now? As Blackwall or Thom Rainier?” Dorian pushed himself away from the pole he had leaned against and stepped out of the shadows the low sun had covered the barn in.

“However it pleases you,” he answered and slowly turned around to him. “I don’t have the right to choose anymore.”

The Altus from Tevinter frowned, but to Blackwall’s surprise he said nothing to that. Instead his honey coloured eyes hung thoughtfully on him. He couldn’t tell why, but Blackwall felt like Dorian assessed if he deserved the Inquisitor’s verdict or if he could be a threat. The Inquisitor and Blackwall had been friends as much as they could be despite the different ranks and his lie and Dorian loved the Inquisitor dearly. He surely wanted to protect his love and therefore, it felt like he was judging Blackwall once again.

“Why are you here, Dorian?” He asked tiredly and threw a long, exhausted gaze at him.

“I’m here to understand,” the mage explained surprisingly calm and his deep voice was warm.

“What’s there to understand?” Blackwall snapped, his voice as hard and sharp as his sword and he cringed himself about the sudden anger which burned inside his navel. The anger he felt for himself, but Dorian showed no reaction despite that his frown deepened slightly more. “You know what I did.”

“I do.” Dorian nodded. “But I’d like to know why you did it.”

“You know why. To…” He paused for a moment and sank powerless onto the low stool in the middle of the barn with a deep sigh. Suddenly he felt exhausted as if the weight of his guilt was pulling on him. “…to hide from everything.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What then?”

“Why did you kill the family? Why did you kill the children?” Surprisingly, there was no scorn in Dorian’s voice as Blackwall had expected. Dorian could be temperamental, especially when the Inquisitor was involved, and therefore Blackwall had awaited a storm flood of reproaches for how Blackwall could have dared to betray the Inquisitor’s friendship so much.

No one had said those words to him, but Blackwall knew they thought them. They were like a thundercloud above his head and all the despise poured like acid rain down on him. To experience that actually Dorian was the first one to talk calmly with him and cared to hear his point of view was oddly soothing.

When Dorian was willing to listen, even though they had never been exactly close, gave him the hope that the others might as well.

“I can’t give you a satisfying explanation,” Blackwall said after he had thought for a while. “Because I don’t understand myself anymore why I made this decision. Each time I look back I can feel nothing but disgust for the person I was.”

He lowered his eyes and looked down onto his hand which had clenched into a fist, his nails digging into his skin, almost drawing blood and the muscles of his jaw became stiff. A growl almost left his lips when he looked back at his former self.

“I wish there would be a reasonable one so I could even justify it in front of myself, but honestly, the only one I can give is greed. Pathetic, I suppose.”

“Blackwall…,” Dorian whispered softly and Blackwall felt oddly relieved that he apparently chosen to call him like this even though it might just had been out of an old habit.

Blackwall looked up and was surprised to find a warm shimmer of compassion in his ember coloured eyes.

There must be something in his own gaze, because the mage sighed heavily and looked up. He left his position in the shadow of the attic and the sun danced over his grey, casual tunic.

“I guess I already know the answer to the question, but I still have to ask it. Do you regret it?”

“What exactly? That I lied to you or that I committed the crime and ran away?”

“Both.”

“I do,” Blackwall answered without hesitation and the hardness of grim rested in his eyes. Dorian nodded, but Blackwall couldn’t tell if he believed him. Thoughtful ambers hung on him, examining him thoroughly. Blackwall suppressed the urge to swallow, but he kept the eye contact. At least once he did not want to falter and face the consequences of his actions.

“I believe you.”, Dorian said to Blackwall’s surprise as he got himself a stool from underneath the table. Elegantly, he let himself sink onto it, although the disapproval was written all over the face. Blackwall chalked it as a good sign that Dorian gave up his higher position and met him on eyelevel now. “Greed isn’t a motive which fits to the Blackwall I got to know.”

“Thank you, Dorian.”, he whispered and a cautious smile twitched on the corners of his mouth.

Strangely, it actually felt like they were truly talking for the first time. Not masquerade to masquerade. Just them and for the first time they were willing to listen. Just Dorian to… well, whoever he as now and in this moment, Blackwall became aware that he was a nobody. He was not Blackwall. He was not Thom Rainier. He was undefined, unnamed, unknown. Nothing more than a ghost.

Dorian seemed to sense his realization, because when Blackwall looked back up there was compassion resting in the warm eyes.

But then an awkward silence rested between them. Neither of them knew what to say, now that the conversation had reached a level of closeness they never had and they were not a person who were used to talk about their emotions.

For a few very long moments the only sounds came from the horses. Dorian’s eyes had left him and rested on the pile of gryphons instead. Instinctively, Blackwall expected one how the mage’s typical, sarcastic comment, but the gaze remained thoughtful. It almost looked as if he was moving his thoughts back and forth, but then he sighed and looked back at him.

“He misses you, you know,” he whispered and Blackwall frowned.

“Who?” Dorian rolled his eyes and starred at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Who do you think?” he asked with a slightly annoyed tone and crossed his legs elegantly. “The Inquisitor of course.”

Blackwall startled, though, he did not know exactly why.

“You were such close friends.”

“I know.” But now it felt like they were so far away, as if the silhouette of Thom was standing between them. As if he did not deserve it anymore. Or maybe because he didn’t want the Inquisitor to look at him ever again like he had in that prison in Val Royeaux or in the throne room. This heavy gaze of disappointment.

“And now, you’re not speaking to him at all. You’re avoiding him.”

“I do,” Blackwall admitted, because there was no use in denying it.

“Why?” Dorian’s voice became a little louder, but there was no harshness in it. It wasn’t curiosity either. He sounded rather…tired, maybe. As Blackwall lifted his gaze, he realized that Dorian appeared tired. Maybe it was just the light, but Blackwall believed to see dark circles underneath his eyes. Blackwall wondered why.

“Because I can’t look into his eyes anymore.”

“He has forgiven you, Blackwall.”

“I know.” A deep sigh escaped him. “But that doesn’t mean I have forgiven me.”

Dorian nodded, maybe as a kind of processing the information, maybe because he truly understood. Blackwall wasn’t sure, but he did not care.

“So, this is your chosen punishment? Your exile?”

“If you want to see it that way.” Blackwall shrugged and once again, Dorian’s eyes wandered towards the gryphons and the fire of realisation ran through them.

“Stubborn old man.”, he murmured.

“What did you say?” he asked and narrowed his eyes. To his surprise, though, Dorian stayed calm and only looked at him for a long time.

“You truly haven’t understood his verdict.”

“What’s there to understand,” Blackwall exclaimed as he jumped up and knocked the stool over. “I deserve to be punished and not to be given my freedom.”

“That it wasn’t mercy he gave you. The freedom is your punishment.” Blackwall stopped his restless pace around the barn he had fallen into and starred at Dorian.

“How could it be?”

“Because you have to define yourself completely anew. You are neither Thom Rainer nor Blackwall anymore. Your punishment is to find out who you really are and that’s not an easy one.”

Stunned, he turned around to the mage and starred at him.

“I’ve never seen it like this.”, Blackwall then whispered and his shoulders slumped.

“Obviously.” With these words Dorian rose from his stool. “Well then I hope you come to your senses and stop hiding from him.”

Without giving Blackwall the chance to say anything to it, the mage swirled around and headed towards the country yard.

“And what is your verdict, Dorian,” Blackwall asked. Dorian stopped his step, but didn’t turn around to him. Instead he weighed his head for a moment and then said:

“That my Amatus is a very wise man.”

Blackwall huffed and turned around. He knew that the conversation was over now and the next time he turned around, Dorian was gone.

~*~

The heavy, wooden door creaked when Dorian opened it. Just as he had expected, the Inquisitor sat behind his massive desk, buried in piles of papers. The warm light of the day gently grazed into his chamber, surrounding him in a soft glow of orange.

“And did you find the answers you were looking for, Dorian,” he asked without looking up from the papers he was currently working on, the white feather scratching over the parchment.

Dorian sighed and smiled. Of course, he knew where he had been.

“Yes,” he answered while he leaned against the desk right next to the man he loved and looked thoughtfully down into these expressive, deep eyes.

The Inquisitor sighed resigned as he put the feather away and closed the bottle of ink. Deep, sorrowful eyes looked up at him and to see him like that pained Dorian. He reached out and tenderly cupped his cheek.

“How are you feeling about it, Amatus?” The Inquisitor hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to answer Dorian, but rather because he didn’t know how to put in words. The little frown resting between his eyebrows were the best proof.

“I don’t know.” A deep exhaled one of the mightiest men in whole Thedas and he shook his head. “Did I make the right choice, Dorian?”

Then he turned his gaze back to Dorian and there was a hurt expression in them. The same he had carried when Dorian had shouted at him for giving him his birthright back and it pained Dorian to see him like this.

“I think you did.” He took his strong, callous hands in his and gently patted them. “What he had done was truly horrible, but I guess I saw the same you did. Ever since he met Blackwall, he has tried everything to redeem himself. Thom Rainier died, when he overtook Blackwall’s identity and he only did good things ever since. Executing him or life in prison would just feel wrong. I think he has punished himself more than enough over the years.”

Before he had talked to Blackwall, he wouldn’t have expected to say these words. Though he had went to the barn without any imagination what he would hear, but in each word of the warrior had resonated such a dark shiver of guilt. It had convinced Dorian that the image he had of Blackwall had been right. The only thing he had hidden behind his masquerade was the lie and the pain, but not his true nature.

“Dorian…” His name sounded like a breath of relief and he felt how a slight tension faded out of his shoulders, indicating how much Dorian’s words meant to him. Most people would have missed it, but Dorian knew him too well.

“So, yes. You made the right choice, Amatus,” he said soothingly as he tenderly cupped his cheek.

“But if this is the result of my decision then I wonder if a life in prison or sending him to the wardens would have made him happier. As absurd as it is.”

“It wasn’t an easy choice,” Dorian agreed and weighed his head thoughtfully from side to side. “If you had sentenced him to live as Blackwall, his guilt would have destroyed him, but he isn’t Thom Rainier either anymore.”

The Inquisitor nodded, but his eyes didn’t show the convincing conviction as before. In front of his subordinates he always had to show fierce, never faltering determination in order not to unsettle him. Only with Dorian he allowed to show his doubts.

The deep eyes, which had faced the greatest disaster and darkest of places, looked up at him.

“Then why is he avoiding me?” the Inquisitor asked and there was a flicker of desperation in his voice. Whenever I just come into his sight, he either turns around abruptly or cast his eyes down when he can’t escape.”

“I think you know why.” Dorian sighed. “He thinks of your judgement as mercy and believes he doesn’t deserve it. He can be quite stubborn and I guess, he feels ashamed.”

“I know…I know…but...” Another, world heavy sigh escaped the Inquisitor.

“Amatus...”

“I miss him, Dorian. I miss our friendship.”

“I know,” he said softly and kissed his beloved forehead. “He probably still has to adjust to all of this. He had hidden it all for so long.”

“You’re right.” The Inquisitor rested his head on Dorian’s shoulder and immediately, the Altus began to muse his fingers through his hair.

“Give him a bit more time. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“I hope so.” The Inquisitor exhaled deeply. “Though, I guess Cassandra will be thrilled to finally get out of here for once.”

“Hmmmhmmm…” Dorian hummed and continued to caress him. “Maybe she’ll finally stop mauling the training dolls.”

“Josie would greatly appreciate.” The Inquisitor chuckled and a small smile played around his lips which eased Dorian’s heart. “She keeps complaining about the amount of money we need to replace them.”

“Come.” He pressed another kiss to his temple. “Let us have breakfast. I heard Josie finally got cheese which tastes like despair.”

“And you’ve been aching to have proper food ever since the Winter Palace.” He pulled away and looked at Dorian with a smirk.

“You got me.” A deep laugh escaped him. “What do you say, Amatus?”

With these words, he stood up and held out his hand, the rings his beloved had made for him glistening in the fresh light of a winter morning. For a moment, the Inquisitor only looked at him, but then he huffed and smiled as he accepted it and let himself pulled out of the chair. He groaned and rolled his shoulders which had grown tensed of ours spending in the wooden chair.

A concerned frown carved its way between Dorian’s brows like a valley, but then the Inquisitor looked at him with a warm smile and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. He took his hand and together they descended the countless steps to the dining room.

~*~

The Inquisitor leaned against the wall of the tower, hidden in the half-shadows of the midday sun which appeared so close. He had watched Blackwall for a while how he shoved hay into the horses’ boxes and lovingly cared for them.

It made the Inquisitor smile and, in this moment, he was sure he had made the right choice. That he had not been wrong about Blackwall. He still was the person he knew and who had become his friend.

He pushed himself away from the cold and walked over towards the barn. It was about time the had this conversation which Blackwall had tried so desperately to avoid. The Inquisitor might be known as a patient man and he had wanted to give Blackwall all the time he needed, but it couldn’t go on like this. Either their friendship would end today or they would go back to normal. The Inquisitor had enough of this in between and the tension of unspoken words.

The air in the stable was warm from the body warmth of the horses. His stallion Parshath poked his head out, his white fur glowing like freshly fallen snow from the light of the sun which fell through a window into the box.

The Inquisitor smiled softly and stroked his loyal mount’s snout as a greeting and Parshath snorted contently. Orphnaios, Dorian’s pitch-black stallion, also looked out of the box next to him and nudged the Inquisitor. It caused one of the mightiest men in Thedas to chuckle. Just like his owner, Orphnaios was strong, loyal and loved the finer things in life- especially treats.

It was that little sounds which didn’t fit into the surrounding of a stable that let Blackwall pause with mucking Friend’s box, Cole’s claybank.

“Inquisitor,” he said, his voice bright from surprise and his eyes widened. For a moment the Inquisitor expected he would turn around and flee, but instead his shoulders slumped and he lowered his gaze.

“Good morning, Black…” The friendly smile on the Inquisitor’s lips disappeared as the name died on his tongue and the warrior flinched as if he had been hit by a hammer. The air in the stable suddenly became heavy from the weight of the lie and even the horses seemed to have stopped munching on the hay.

The Inquisitor sighed. That was why they needed to talk. He didn’t like how the situation was currently. Blackwall and he had been very close friends, but now, he did not even know how to call him anymore. It definitely was time to sort this out.

“Hardworking as always I see.” He lifted his gaze off the floor and the friendly, comforting smile returned to his voice. Blackwall seemed to be surprised, but then he huffed and the Inquisitor was relieved to see a small smile lifting up the corners of his mouth.

“Dennet is with a mare which was supposed to give birth a few nights back. It looks it isn’t an easy one. So, I offered him to take over the duties in this stable.” He sighed again and wiped a few beads of sweat out of his face, before he added: “Gives me something to do.”

The Inquisitor frowned slightly, but then nodded with a hum. For a moment, he seriously considered to leave Blackwall to his task if it was able to distract him from the guilt, because he was aware that it was just that and nothing else. Maybe it was selfish to push Blackwall to have a conversation he wasn’t ready for just because he didn’t know how to handle the situation anymore. It was Blackwall’s past and destiny after all.

“Is there something I could do for you, Inquisitor?” Blackwall looked at him, his gaze an unmoved mask as he waited for a move. Just like in battle, his sword drawn and his hand gripping the shield tightly as he waited for the opponents first move to parry it.

“Yes, there is actually.”

“How can I be at service?”

It took all of the Inquisitor’s willpower not to roll his eyes in annoyance. It had taken a long time until Blackwall had given up being formal around him. The leader of the Inquisition had never liked it to be addressed like that. They were all his friends and when they talked like that it didn’t feel like they were equal.

“How about we talk?” he suggested.

“Isn’t that what we are doing?” Blackwall asked and tilted his head slightly while he supported himself onto the pitchfork.

“No, we aren’t. We haven’t talked ever since your trial.”

Blackwall flinched as the voice of the Inquisitor was sharper than he had intended; like a blade out of ice.

Immediately, the tension faded out of the lean body of the man, who carried the destiny of Thedas, as he let it out of his nose.

“Listen, I know you’ve buried this all for a long time and it must be hard to deal with the past, now that you have changed. I want to give you all the time to need to sort things out.” He leaned against the pile between Parshath’s and Orphnaios’ boxes and starred at Lilly, who looked at him, awaiting what he was going to say to her owner. “Guess, I just didn’t expect it to take that long.”

“Inquisitor, I…” He stopped and blinked, then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I kept avoiding you and that I didn’t have the courage to approach you first.”

“I’m not angry, Blackwall.” Reassuringly, he shook his head and Blackwall’s head jerked up when he heard the soft tone in his voice. “I’ve never been.”

“But you are disappointed.”

“Sad is more fitting, but not for the reason you suspect.”

“Then why?”

“I’m sad, because I wasn’t able to give you the feeling you could talk to me about this.”

Rapidly, with shock in his eyes, Blackwall took a step forward, the fork falling to the ground with a bright chink.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I think it is to a degree.” He sighed and aimlessly, he kicked a pile of hay, which scattered and then sank to the ground. “I’m not a good leader if my allies don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true. I trust you!” Blackwall insisted loudly, causing Betsy, Sera’s mare, to neigh nervously, while Friend backed further away from him.

“Apparently not enough.” The Inquisitor lifted his gaze and there rested more sadness in his eyes then Blackwall had expected.

Blackwall looked at him shocked, his blue eyes appearing as big as an ocean as it dawned on him of how much impact his lie had. Not just on him.

The normally strong, confident warrior lowered his head in shame and it stung inside the Inquisitor’s stomach. He truly hadn’t wanted to add to Blackwall’s misery, but apparently, he had felt more hurt than he himself had noticed.

Then, the former chevalier took a deep breath and covered the distance between them with a few, big steps.

“Please don’t do that,” he said softly and rested a strong, callous hand onto the Inquisitor’s upper arm.

“Do what?” The Inquisitor rose his head, his eyes darker than usual and blinked in confusion.

“Allowing that my mistakes make you question your leadership,” Blackwall replied, his blue irises looking at him with stern seriousness. “You’re a good leader. I wished there would be more like you. Thedas might be a better place then.”

For a moment they only looked each other, longing for the past and unburdened relation was speaking from both of their eyes, but the Inquisitor was actually glad he knew. That Blackwall did not have to keep this pain and burden hidden in the depth of his soul where it was spreading like poison, slowly eating him up.

When Blackwall could not take the shame of disappointing his leader to whom he had sworn loyalty to and who had become is friend, he turned abruptly away and walked towards Lily. The brown mare blinked lazily at him and blew warm air into his hand.

The Inquisitor looked after him, his heart heavy. It was as if a canyon of the Western Approach was between them.

“I miss my best friend.” The Inquisitor took a step closer to him. “Isn’t there any way we can go back to it, Blackwall?”

“You might have forgiven me, and only the Maker knows why, but it doesn’t mean I have forgiven myself.”

“I didn’t do it out of pity. I did it because I know who you are.”

“At least one of us.”

A heavy sigh escaped the warrior.

“Is this what it’s really about?” the Inquisitor asked and leaned on the stable door of Orphnaios. “That you lost yourself?”

The noble, black stallion rested his head heavily on the shoulders who carried the weight of the world. Without even looking at the horse the Inquisitor reached out and stroked his snout. Orphnaios hummed deeply, savouring the gentle rub between his eyes. He was just as spoiled as his owner, but the Inquisitor know that they were loyal to the bone when it came down to it. When other horses turned around to flee, Orphnaios was in front line together with Parshath and Lilly. It was quite an impressive sight which chased many enemies away- the humans mostly.

“Maybe.” Blackwall huffed and combed through Lilly’s mare even though it was smooth and silky already, without a single knot.

“I don’t know. I’m confused, to be honest.”

“Well, that’s normal if you have to find out who you truly are. Behind the crime and behind the lie. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I felt the same when I became the Herald and then the Inquisitor. Suddenly, I was nothing more than the titles and my task. I was reduced to the anchor in my hand.”

With sad eyes, he looked down to his left hand which began to flare in that poisonous green. Some of the horses, those who travelled less with them like Vivienne’s slim thoroughbred mare Milady snorted nervously.

“How were you able to preserve yourself?”

Curiously, Blackwall turned back to him.

“Because I have friends who reminded me who I am. Friends, who saw me and not my task. It made me realize that people see in you what they want to and you can’t allow it to become the picture you have of yourself,” he explained. “I think it’s similar with Blackwall. He was your saviour, freed you from your destiny and offered you an escape.”

Blackwall lowered his eyes in shame, but the Inquisitor rested a comforting hand onto his upper arm.

“Over the years, however, he has become a symbol of goodness. He is, however, an overdrawn, over-perfect image that no one can fulfil and so his over-idealised legacy stands before you like a statue and swallows you up in its shadow.”

“I…”

“You can’t live up to the enhanced memory. Nobody could; just as much as I can’t be the holy figure people see in me. We’re human, we can’t be perfect. We can’t be an ideal and that is alright. That’s what makes us human after all.” A soft, comforting smile played around the Inquisitors lips and Blackwall’s eyes widened.

“But I have to…,” he stammered.

“You’ve been atoning for your sins for years, Blackwall.”

“I should have died.”

“The man who committed the crimes has died many years ago. You’re not him anymore,” the Inquisitor replied determined, his voice strong and firm and the warrior startled, “and you did many good since then.”

“Only to…” A shake of the Inquisitor’s head stopped him and his mouth fell shut.

“I don’t believe that. If your only goal was to atone, it would have been enough to stay in the Hinterlands and to help the farmers, but you wanted to join me because you knew it was the greater good, the right thing to do like you told me many times. I believe you that, because it fits to the man I got to know and whom I still see in you. That is why I gave you freedom, because you don’t know who you are anymore, but I do and that man hasn’t committed the crime.”

Blackwall stayed silent, not knowing what to say to that, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m not the only one,” the Inquisitor continued. “Dorian said the same.”

“Hmmm…” Blackwall hummed deep in his chest and ran his strong fingers through his thick, black beard. Then a deep, heavy sigh escaped him. “He told me what your intention behind your judgement was. Please don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what you did for me, it’s just…”

“You don’t think you deserve it.” The kind smile stayed on the Inquisitor’s lips. “But you just said you don’t know who you are, but I do. Except you are telling me everything in the past year was a lie.”

“No, of course not.”

“I know. So, you can trust my picture of you? Can you trust my assessment?” Blackwall blinked, trying to assess what the Inquisitor had just said.

“I always trust your judgement,” he said. Then he let out a deep breath of tension and an honest smile finally returned to his lips, his blue eyes shining again. “You’re a good friend. Far better than I deserve.”

“Let this be my worry. I’m also friends with Sera and she’s far more trouble and I share the bed with a Vint.”

“That’s true.” Blackwall laughed softly and it felt much more like it used to, now, but the heavy topic wasn’t over yet. There was still something burning in the Inquisitor’s mind.

“You can truly join the Grey Wardens, now, if you want to.” The smile fell from the Inquisitor’s face and he turned away, back to Orphnaios and stroked his neck. “I’d be sad if you leave, but I’d understand.”

The fallen Warden and chevalier considered it for a while, a deep frown resting on his face. The Inquisitor gave him the time he needed and waited, but it wasn’t easy. Blackwall was his best friend and together with Dorian he accompanied him the most. He appreciated his calm demeanour. Whenever a situation got heated, Blackwall kept a cool head, standing like a statue on the battlefield. It would be a great loss for the Inquisition and a great win for the Wardens.

If this was what Blackwall wanted, though, he would have to let him go. He couldn’t keep him here. That was what freedom and therefore his judgement was about.

“It might be the right thing to do,” Blackwall began slowly and didn’t look at the Inquisitor. “Maybe it’s what I’d owe the Wardens.”

“I see.” The Inquisitor nodded, but before he was able to add something, Blackwall continued:

“But it’s not what I want to do. I promised I’d stay with the end and that’s an oath I want to keep.”

“Blackwall, I don’t…”

“I know,” he softly interrupted the Inquisitor. “But you’re my friend. The best I’ve ever had and I want to help you through this.”

The Inquisitor smiled, relief easing his heart.

“Thank you.”

“No, I have to thank you for my second chance.”

~*~

“There you are,” Dorian exclaimed as the Inquisitor returned to his quarters and looked up from his book.

“Oh?!” The Inquisitor raised both his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Reading here, now?”

“The chaise longue is much more comfortable than the armchair in the library,” the mage explained as he elegantly swung his feet back onto the floor and sat up, resting the book carelessly to the side. The flirty, sassy tone and expression disappeared from his handsome face. “How did it go?”

“Quite good,” the Inquisitor said as he took Dorian’s offered hands and let him pull him down next to him.

“I’m glad.” Immediately, he found himself in a tight embrace and warm lips pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Is he going to leave?”

“No.”

“Such a shame,” Dorian teased, but smiled as the Inquisitor threw him a long, annoyed gaze, the grin only twitching around his lips.

He reached out and tenderly stroked through the Inquisitor’s hair.

“I’m happy for you, Amatus.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enoyed that story =) I had a lot of fun writing it. 
> 
> Have a nice day, Subaru :)


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